Just A Little Harmless Smut
by Save vs. Magic
Summary: Alex stumbles in drunk at 3 AM and catches Justin, ahem, "in the act". Which naturally leads to...a long, rambling discussion about their respective experiences with love and sex. Wait, what? Set in S3, pre-Wizards Vs. Werewolves. Very 'M' rated. JALEX


**SUMMARY:** Alex stumbles in drunk at 3 AM, and catches Justin (ahem) "in the act". Which naturally leads to...a long, rambling discussion about their respective attitudes towards love and sex. Wait, what? Set early in Season 3, pre-_Wizards Vs. Werewolves._

**RATING/CONTENT:** M/NC-17 for underage drinking, frank discussions of a sexual nature, and explicit depictions of consensual sibcest-y shenanigans. (Also, Justin uses the 'm' word once.) Jalex, obviously, with minor Alex/Mason and Justin/Juliet. Fluffy smut/smutty fluff. (Flut? Smuff?)

**DISCLAIMER THE FIRST:** No matter how many live goats and chickens I sacrifice to the dark lord Yog-Sototh, _Wizards of Waverly Place_ and its characters continue to be owned by other people, who tend to frown on this sort of thing, dammit. Which really sucks, if only because it's not like live goats or chickens come cheap. I dunno, maybe I oughta try Cthulu?

**DISCLAIMER THE SECOND:** No goats and/or chickens were actually harmed in the making of this story. No, really. Honest.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Written just for the hell of it, more-or-less by request: the same caught-in-the-act scenario from my T-rated fic _Tatooine_, but in reverse, now with 100% more sexy hi-jinks. If you read the other and were disappointed by the distinct lack of smut, then this Bud Light Lime's for you! ;)

* * *

It's three in the morning on a Friday night—because it can't be Saturday morning if you haven't gone to bed yet, and look, it makes sense to her, OK?—and Alex Russo is halfway drunk off her ass on rum and cherry coke as she stumbles out of the back of the cab, nearly trips over the curb, and lurches towards the darkened windows of the Sub Station. She fumbles with her keys, dropping them twice before she finds the right one, then lets herself in. Bert waits until she's safely inside and has locked the door behind her before he flashes his high-beams in farewell, and drives off.

She waves goodbye until she sees his tail lights disappear around the corner of Waverly Place and Broadway, then sighs contentedly. Sweet guy, that Bert. You couldn't ask for a nicer sentient taxi cab. Always there to get her home when she needs him most. Also, no driver means no fare, plus no creepy dude staring at her disapprovingly in the rear view mirror as she snores drunkenly in the backseat. So, win.

And, God only knows, after the night she's had, she'll take every little victory she can get.

Taking a deep breath, Alex pushes away from the door and sways uncertainly as she picks her way through the tables and chairs towards the spiral staircase. One of the chairs at table four leaps out at her suddenly—seriously, that's what happens, she swears—and squeaks across the dull vinyl tiles as she runs headlong into it.

"Shhh!" she hisses at it, then snorts and begins giggling uncontrollably. Patting the back of the chair affectionately, she sidesteps around it, then zigzags the rest of the way towards the black spiral staircase leading up into the loft. She grabs onto the railing with both hands to steady herself, then holds her breath and proceeds to slowly tiptoe her way up. Quiet-like. Stealthy. Like a little rum-and-cherry-coke-fueled ninja, except with better fashion sense.

She freezes as she gets about halfway up, thinking she hears voices, talking softly. Glancing up—and nearly falling down and breaking her neck as the world spins around her for a second—she sees flickering blue light reflected on the shiny black stairs above her, and realizes that the TV in the living room is on. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she wonders if it's one of her parents, waiting up to catch her in the act of breaking curfew, or merely Max pwning noobs on X-Box Live. One thing for sure, it's definitely not Justin: three AM is way, way past his stupid self-imposed bedtime.

Holding her breath, Alex creeps up three more crucial steps, and braces her hands on the floor of the living room, raising her head just enough to peer through the black metal standards towards the couch, and the TV beyond. And what she sees there makes her blink so hard in surprise that she very nearly loses her balance.

Whoever it is in the living room appears to be watching porn, judging by all the naked, gyrating bodies crowding the screen. And by the looks of the head she can see silhouetted over the back of the couch in the glow of the TV, it seems to be...

"Oh, no way!" she whispers to herself, incredulous, then breaks out into a wide grin. Because, clearly, her luck has turned itself right around. This is such a gift from above, it's like Christmas Eve and her birthday all rolled up into one.

Holding her hand over her nose and mouth to keep from giggling, Alex slowly makes her way up the rest of the stairs, even more careful now to make as little noise as possible. When she finally reaches the top of the stairs, she drops to all fours and crawls over to the back of the couch, not trusting herself to make it all the way there on two feet without giving herself away by stumbling into something. She spends an agonizing few minutes dragging herself forward inch by careful inch, and feels a small surge of triumph when she finally reaches the sofa undetected. Drawing herself up on her knees, she gently rests her elbows on the top of the couch, careful not to jostle it, then props her chin up in one hand and grins lazily at the TV.

"Yo," she says casually.

"Hey Alex," Justin says absently, without taking his eyes off the television, or his hand out of his boxers.

Alex's grin widens. Inwardly, she counts one, two, three...

And then Justin does a classic double-take as he realizes what his sister has just caught him doing. Jumping up off the couch and whipping his hand out of his underpants as though he's been burned, he stares at her with eyes as wide as dinner plates and a face redder than a baboon's ass.

"OMIGOD, ALEX!" he hisses, in that high-pitched, breathy, scandalized voice that's always been like catnip to her. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

"Wow, orgy scene, huh?" Alex asks, still watching the TV. "_This_ is what gets you off? Man, it's always the quiet ones. Does Juliet know?"

Justin looks from her, to the television, and back again, then leaps for the remote where it lays on the couch. But Alex is closer, and she reaches down to snatch it out of his grasp just as the tips of his fingers come into contact with it. Smirking at him, she tosses it back over her shoulder, leaving him to watch helplessly as it sails over the railing of the spiral staircase. His shoulders slump in defeat as it lands with a distant clatter in the Sub Station below.

"_Why_ would you do that?" he groans.

"Because I happen to like what we're watching, obviously," Alex grins, getting up off her knees and crawling over the back of the couch. Settling herself onto it, she props her Uggs up on the coffee table, then raises her eyebrows at what she sees next to them.

"Well, hey! I find you watching porn _and_ helping yourself to some of Dad's beer? Man, I'm impressed, egghead. I may actually have to start respecting you a little, now."

Justin narrows his eyes at her, but the way his mouth tugs up just slightly at the corners tells her that he's proud of himself for that. "Mom and Dad got kinda blitzed while watching wrestling, tonight. I doubt they'll miss one or two."

"I'll drink to that!" Alex grins, leaning forward to grab one of the cans off the table. She pops it open, then raises it to him with a grin before taking a good, long swig from it.

"Uhhhh, are you sure you should be having that?" Justin asks, uncertainly. "You already seem pretty blitzed, yourself."

"Liquor then beer, never fear," Alex burps, then looks down at the can in her hand. "Besides, it's Bud Light Lime, dude. I've mixed Kool Aid stronger than this."

"That's because you made it with vodka," Justin says wryly.

"True. But you have to admit: best lemonade stand, ever," Alex grins, taking another sip. "I was the richest seven year-old on the block for about twenty minutes, before that cop came by and ratted me out to Mom and Dad."

"I'm still not sure how you managed to talk me into magicking open the liquor cabinet for you," Justin says, smiling at the memory.

"Dude, please. I could talk you into anything." Alex looks up at her brother, who is still uneasily glancing back and forth from her to the orgy they're watching. "Look, would you please just relax and sit down? It's no big deal. You think you're the only one who sneaks down here in the middle of the night sometimes to rub one out?"

Justin blinks at her in amazement. "Really?"

Alex rolls her eyes theatrically. "Duh. You're not the only horny teenager in the house, Justin. Skinemax and I are old friends. This is a little more hardcore than what I usually go in for, but...sure, I've watched porn before."

"You mean...on purpose?"

"No, by accident," Alex replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do you think, dummy?"

"Hey, it was an honest question, alright?" Justin awkwardly lowers himself down onto the couch, then picks up his beer from the coffee table and takes a sip. "'I just didn't think girls were...y'know...into that. I mean, Juliet thinks it's pretty gross."

"Yeah, Harper does too," Alex sighs, shaking her head. "She totally gets squicked out. It's all hearts and flowers for her. I swear she believes all guys are as smooth as Ken dolls below the waist. Sometimes I genuinely feel sorry for whoever it is she's gonna wind up with."

"Hey, better him than me," Justin says emphatically. He eases back against the couch a bit. "You're OK with it, though? You don't think it's degrading, or demeaning to women?"

"Well, I guess it depends," Alex shrugs. "I mean, stuff like this can be hot, but anything that's really, like, super-aggressive or borderline violent turns me right off. I am _so_ not into BDSM. And, ugh, all that 'Girls Gone Wild' crap? Filming drunk sorority chicks taking their tops off, and making out, and shit? That's pretty gross. Like video date-rape, or something."

"Mmm," Justin frowns. "No argument, here."

"On the whole, though?" Alex continues as she takes another sip of her beer, "I actually think guys come off a whole lot _worse_ in most porn than girls. At least when it comes to mainstream stuff."

"What? Seriously?"

"Sure," Alex nods. "Like, you don't even get to see their faces ninety percent of the time. They're literally just a dick. Unless you're a name, like Ron Jeremy or whatever, the girl's the star. Take this chick here, for example. I guarantee you she probably made three times more for being in this than that dude she's blowing, y'know?"

"I guess...though, seeing as how he's getting blown, I think he's probably fine with it." Justin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Juliet says it's wrong to reduce women to mere sex objects."

"Uh huh," Alex says, rolling her eyes. "Vampire Barbie _would_ say something like that. Hey, you know what else reduces people to mere sex objects, though? Sex."

Justin chuckles at this, and arches an eyebrow as he raises his can to his lips. "Wow, that's deep. Work that out all by yourself, did you?"

"I'm serious!" Alex says, an edge of annoyance sliding into her voice at how easily he dismisses her. "There's nothing wrong with it, it's just human nature. Everybody does it. And anyone who says they _don't_ is either full of shit, or lying to themselves."

"Nah, I disagree," Justin says, with a shake of his head. "Juliet and I both happen to believe there's a world of difference between having sex and making love."

"Oh Christ, she really does have you drinking the Kool-Aid, doesn't she?" Alex snorts, a little more loudly than she intends. "Look, what do you honestly think is going through your precious little Schnuggly Boo-Boo McCutiekins' head when you're schtupping her, egghead? What a wonderfully complex human being you are? Or how good the dick _that just happens to be attached to you_ feels sliding in and out of her tight little undead cooch?"

Justin's eyes go wide, and he sputters as he chokes on his beer, then slams it down on the coffee table and doubles over, coughing uncontrollably. Alex rolls her eyes again, then leans forward and begins pounding him on the back between his shoulder blades with the palm of her hand.

"There, there...I know," she says soothingly. "The very thought of you having sex makes me sick, too."

Justin looks up and glares at her as he coughs one last time, then shrugs off her hand as he sits back up. "OK, this is just too weird."

"What's weird?"

"Uh, debating the ethics of porn with my drunken little sister while we watch a roomful of people screw each other's brains out?" Justin says. "Also, not gonna lie, that you know who Ron Jeremy is."

Alex scoffs as she takes another pull on her can, and lets out a burp. "Dude, c'mon... who doesn't know the Hedgehog? He was on _The Surreal Life_ for Christ's sake."

"Alex, seriously...this doesn't strike you as more than a little strange?"

"Justin, the only thing strange about it is that we're even having a conversation while all _that_ is happening in front of us. Take the stick out and finish your beer, OK?" Alex slides down the back of the couch and rests her own beer on her tummy. "It's just a little harmless smut. Nobody's going to hell for this, I promise."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex sees Justin hesitate, then shrug and settle back against the sofa. Slumping down a little, subconsciously mimicing her pose, he takes a small slurp from his can.

"So, how was the party?" he asks faux-casually, as though chatting with his sister while watching two beefy dudes double-team a blonde, heavily tattooed Asian girl is an everyday occurrence.

"Ngh, not so hot," Alex sighs, without taking her eyes off the screen, her expression clouding over at the thought of it. "That cute new British kid from my art class was there, but he still hasn't made a move. So we spent all night pretending _not_ to look at each other, like a couple of dorks. I dunno, I don't think anything's gonna happen there."

"Why not?" Justin asks with a puzzled frown. "I mean, you're obviously into him, so..."

"Yeah, but he's either gay, retarded, or completely incapable of taking a hint!" Alex scowls. "Seriously, the only way I could send him more obvious signals would be with a bonfire and a blanket."

"Heh, I dunno about that. Have you tried semaphore?"

Alex blinks at him. "Semi-what?"

"Nonono, not 'semi', sema—forget it," Justin says in his overly patient, 'my-sister-is-an-idiot' voice. "Listen, has it occurred to you that maybe he's shy? Or just has trouble knowing what to say when approaching girls? I mean, he is British. They're supposed to be more reserved than Americans. _You_ could always make the first move."

"Ugh, but I always make the first move!" Alex protests. "With Riley, I made the first move. With Dean, I made the first move. Is it too much to ask that I get to be the friggin' _girl_ in the relationship, for a change? Besides, I thought being too aggressive turned boys off."

"Not all guys. Some of us actually kind of like it," Justin says. Then, flushing darkly, he hastens to add: "Uh, that is, I didn't hear Riley or Dean complaining."

"Mmm, I guess that's true," Alex admits, after taking a sip of her beer. "Anyway, I was really hoping me and Stupid Cute British Dude would wind up together during Seven Minutes In Heaven, if only because he'd _have_ to talk to me then. But I got stuck having to make out with T.J. instead. Ugh. I'm pretty sure the little doucher used magic to rig it, too."

Justin chokes on his own beer again, then wipes the back of his hand across his lips as he turns to look at her, incredulous. "T.J. Taylor? Are you serious? I hate that guy! You actually made out with him?"

"Well, only a little," Alex says, matter-of-factly. "Closed mouth, no tongue, not a big deal. Trust me, it was almost worth it just to get him to shut up. But then he must have figured I wasn't wearing a bra and tried to put his hand up my shirt. He wouldn't knock it off, so I had to cock-punch him."

"That perverted little son of a—wait, what? You did _what?_"

"Cock-punched him," Alex repeats over the rim of her beer can, with a sagelike nod. "Punched him in the jeans. Assaulted his nuts."

Justin stares at her, open-mouthed and unblinking. "Oh my God, how I wish I could have seen that!"

"Yeah, it _was_ pretty funny. He yelped just like a kicked puppy, then lay twitching on the floor in the fetal position until our seven minutes were up." A small grin of triumph spreads across Alex's features at the thought of it, only to be replaced by a scowl with the memory that follows. "Thing is, though, there were a bunch of kids listening right outside the door who _heard_ me make him yelp, and assumed...well, y'know."

"Wuh-oh," Justin says. "So that's no good..."

"Uh-huh. And now all T.J.'s telling anybody who asks is that I touched his dick, which—given the cock-punch—isn't exactly a lie. So even if I managed to cast a truth spell on him, somehow..."

"Oh, man," Justin mutters, with a frown to match Alex's own. He lays a sympathetic hand on his sister's shoulder. "Alex, everybody knows how full of crap T.J. is. Nobody in their right mind is gonna believe him."

Alex grunts and rolls her eyes at this. "Clearly you've never been a sixteen year old girl with exactly one friend and a reputation for making the first move. Of _course_ they're going to believe him, Justin. That's how high school works. Duh."

She stares blankly at the bodies undulating across the screen without really seeing them, more aware of the way Justin is staring at _her_, with his lips pressed together into a tight thin line, and his dark eyebrows knit together over his grey-green eyes. The warmth of his touch disappears from her shoulder as he gathers her hand in both of his and squeezes it, gently but insistently.

"Don't worry, Alex," he says, in a voice to match. "I'll fix this."

"There's nothing to fix, egghead," Alex laughs bitterly, waving one hand as if to brush the whole thing off. "Look, it'll be fine, really. You know how it is. Everyone will just whisper behind my back for a week, then someone else'll do something scandalous that gets everybody's attention, and I'll be old news. I survived it when Riley told the baseball team I did it with him before he broke up with me. I'll survive this. Like sand through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives, yadda yadda yadda."

Justin stiffens, his grip on her hand tightening. Apparently, no one _on_ the baseball team, or in Alien Loser League for that matter, had filled him in that particular juicy little rumor.

"OK, so now I'm _definitely_ going to fix this," he says. "With extreme prejudice."

"God, Justin, you're taking this harder than I am," Alex says, shaking her head. "Look, seriously: don't. Trying to do anything about it is only gonna make it worse. Just let it blow over, all right?"

"No," he says firmly, his voice level. "Nobody talks about you that way, and gets away with it. Not as long as I'm around to do something about it. I'll fix this."

Alex absorbs this. Silently takes a drink from her beer, then another.

"Assuming I wanted you to," she says in a quiet voice, without looking at him, "and I'm not admitting that I do, then how exactly would you do it? Because it's T.J. we're talking about, here. He's a pretty good wizard. I don't think a simple truth spell is gonna cut it."

"_Please_," Justin snorts darkly. "T.J. Taylor might think he's hot shit in a champagne glass when it comes to magic, but next to me he's cold diarrhea in a Dixie cup. I will pwn his noob ass. By the time I'm done with him, he'll be so compelled to spread the truth about what happened tonight, he'll be hiring skywriters and taking out full page ads in every local paper from the Penny Saver to the motherfucking New York Times. _I. Will. Fix. This._ OK?"

Alex turns her head to blink her brown eyes at him, her mouth hanging open in a mixture of shock and awe, having never before seen her brother so full of confidence and bravado. Or ever heard him use the 'm' word, for that matter. It's surprising and outrageous, and...well, kind of hot, in a weird sort of way. Especially because it's the idea of defending her honor that's inspired it in him.

"Sure I guess, if so goddamned important to you," she shrugs, and finds herself grinning at him despite herself. "Man, you are _so_ drunk right now."

"A little, perhaps," Justin admits solemnly, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

"Tsk. Lightweight," Alex teases him, elbowing him in the ribs. But then she impulsively leans into his side and wraps her arms around his neck as she pillows her head on his shoulder. Only Justin's quick reflexes keep her beer from tumbling out of her lap and spilling all over the couch. "I'm glad you're on my side, though, dorkus."

"Always," Justin says, holding her can up for her. "Except, y'know, for those times when I'm not."

"But even then, you really are," Alex observes gleefully, as she accepts it from him and presses it to her lips.

Justin watches her for a moment, eyes defiant. But only for a moment, before his shoulders slump slightly and he sighs ruefully into his beer. "Yeah. I guess I am."

The conversation lapses for a moment, the comfortable silence between them filled with the faint grunts, moans and _bow-chikka-bow-bow_ music coming from the television. Well, comfortable for Alex, anyway—leaning against him the way she is, she can't help but notice the way Justin keeps squirming awkwardly, subtly trying to hide his painfully obvious hard-on, barely restrained by the thin cotton of his boxers. His discomfort and palpable embarrassment over it are simply delicious. And though she's genuinely trying to pay attention to what's happening on screen—because God forbid she should lose the plot—she can't help but glance down at his telltale bulge every few seconds. Grinning wickedly, she oh-so-nonchalantly rests her beer on his abdomen, the back of her hand pressed against the waistband of his boxers, mere inches from his quivering erection. The way his entire body tenses and the sharp intake of breath through his teeth light up the pleasure centers of her brain like the Fourth of July.

"Stop fidgeting!" she admonishes, snuggling against him. "I'm trying to get comfy!"

"Sorry," he croaks, then swallows twice to work some saliva down his throat. "Listen, what say I head downstairs and get the remote so we can change the channel, huh? I think _How To Train Your Dragon_ is on pay-per-view—"

"Woah," Alex cuts him off, lifting her head off his shoulder to stare wide-eyed at what's happening on the television. "Oh, yowch. Now that just looks all sorts of uncomfortable."

Justin wrenches his eyes shut against the particularly graphic close-up filling the screen, and clears his throat. "Or we could switch to the X-Box and order _Kung-Fu Panda_ on Netflix?"

"I mean, did you see the way that guy was hung?" Alex exclaims, ignoring him. "Seriously, dude, her _grandchildren_ are gonna be able to crap standing up!"

"_Shrek 2_ on DVD?" Justin tries one last time.

"Heyyyyyy..." Alex twists at the waist to squint at him curiously, having not heard a single word he said. "So you're a guy, more or less, right?"

Justin sighs heavily in defeat and nods slowly. "More or less, thank you for noticing. Why?"

"That. Explain _that_ to me." She flails her arm at the screen, slopping beer everywhere in the process, forcing Justin to duck. "What is this whole male obsession with sticking it up a girl's pooper, huh? Because honestly? I do not get it. Like, are two holes seriously not enough for you horndogs, already?"

Justin blushes fiercely. "Um, I don't really feel I'm qualified to speak for my entire gender on the subject..."

"Hello? Do you _have_ a dick? Is _that_ what I see trying to peek its way out of the ridiculous little pee-pee door in your shorts, there? Because if it is, then hi, you're qualified."

His complexion darkening from merely pink to full-on Strawberry Jello, Justin abandons all pretenses of subtlety and hurriedly rearranges his boxers, as Alex rolls her eyes and grunts impatiently

"Well? I asked you a question, egghead!"

"Uh, I dunno...because it's different, I guess?" Justin shrugs. "Like, for variety, maybe? Keeps things fresh and interesting?"

"Fresh and—?" Alex tears her eyes away from the TV to stare at him as though he's speaking a foreign language. "Are you friggin' kidding me? Exactly which part of being on the receiving end of a pork enema would you describe as being 'fresh and interesting', Justin?"

"Hey, I'm not...you don't...it isn't..." Seeming to realize he's stammering incoherently, Justin winces and shakes his head sharply. "Well, it sure sounds like _she's_ enjoying it!"

"Pfft, are you really this naive?" Alex cocks her head to the side, one eyebrow raised. "She's _so_ obviously faking. Newsflash, egghead: we do that, sometimes."

Justin's face falls at this, as though his sister has just told him that Santa Claus isn't real. "Oh."

"_'Variety,'_ he says, for Christ's sake..." Alex grumbles into her drink, oblivious, scowling at him over the rim of her beer can before she turns her attention back to the screen. "Honestly. And what happens when you eventually get bored with doing me up the ass, hmm? Are you gonna try and fuck one of my nostrils next? An ear canal, maybe? 'Cause that sounds almost as much fun."

Justin blinks at her in confusion, a strange expression clouding his features. "Uh, wait...me, personally? Or was that a hypothetical 'you'? Because, um—"

"Oh oh oh!" Alex cuts him off, backhanding his shoulder and jabbing one finger at the TV. "And enlighten me on this whole deal with facials while you're at it, too. Because, seriously, having a dude spooge all over you? Particilarily on your _face_? Ick. Not sexy at all. I mean, how 'bout you let me sneeze in _your_ eye and tell me how hot and bothered that makes _you_?"

"Well, if you could shut up for a damn second and let me get a word in edgewise...!" Justin snaps impatiently. He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. "Look, I've never understood the whole facial thing, either. Honestly. Why on Earth you'd want to do that to a girl who's just let you do _that_ with her, I don't know. Maybe it's a guy thing, but it's not _my_ thing, OK? So I'd really appreciate not being put on trial for it!"

"Jesus, dude, chill out. I was just curious," Alex mutters, holding up her hands as if to fend him off. "Trying to get the male perspective. You don't have to take everything so goddamned personally..."

"And as for the whole, y'know, bum scenario—" Justin breaks off as Alex snickers at him, then waits for her to trail off and for his cheeks to stop burning before he continues—"in my experience, it's _not_ just a guy thing. Quite the opposite, actually..."

"Wait wait wait," Alex says, her eyes dancing with mischievous glee. "Hold the phone...are you talking about that rumor going around school that Gigi lets guys do her up the butt so she'll still be technically be a virgin on her wedding night? Because if you've got some inside info about that—"

"No," Justin says pointedly. "And even if I did, could you possibly _be_ more of a hypocrite, right now?"

"What? What the hell do you mean by—oh wait, T.J. Right." Alex chews on the inside of her cheek and flushes a little, having the good grace to look at least a tiny bit chagrined. "Well, OK...what is it you're trying to tell me, then? That you actually think there's girls out there who dig the whole skewering the chocolate starfish deal? Because, dude, I'm here to tell you: no."

Justin smirks ever so slightly at her colorful description of it. "I don't just _think_, I know. In fact, some girls might not just genuinely enjoy it, but actually go out of their way to _request_ it, even."

Alex gives him a look like he has lobsters crawling out of his ears. "Bullshit."

"You'd be surprised," he smirks into his beer. "_Now_ who's being naive?"

"Oh, as if!" Alex scoffs. "Like who? Name one person. Just one. And it has to be a real person. Characters from those pervy Japanese video games you think I don't know you play don't count."

Justin's complexion darkens again, but whether it's from anger or embarrassment, she's not sure. "I was _not_ referring to a Hentai—I mean, a dating sim character."

"Who then? Calico Girl? Jennifer Moon, maybe? Because there's only one flesh-and-blood girl you could _possibly_ have that kind of dirt on, and God knows it's not Vampire Barbie!"

His eyebrows angrily drawn together over his flaring grey-green eyes, Justin opens his mouth to retort...then blinks and snaps it shut again with an audible click of his teeth, seemingly reconsidering what he was about to say. His face burns the color of Hawaiian Punch as his eyes dart away across the room, looking at anything that isn't her. And Alex sits bolt upright in shock, her eyes and mouth forming three perfect circles as she realizes what he was on the verge of admitting to her.

"REALLY?" she screeches, almost at the top of her lungs. "JULIET? ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?"

_"Shhhhhhhhhhhh!"_ Justin hisses under his breath, waving his arms frantically at her as he looks over his shoulder at the stairs. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! You'll wake up Mom and Dad!"

Alex bats his hands away from her face to gawk at him in awe. "Ohmigod, Juliet is into _buttsecks_, of all things? Seriously?"

"What, are you _trying_ to broadcast it to the entire Tri-State area? Keep your voice down!" Casting one last glance at the stairs to ensure their parents aren't about to suddenly appear, Justin turns back to her and shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably. "Yes, OK? Yes. She's immortal, Alex. She's had a lot of time to experiment. Two thousand years is an awful long time to stick to just the missionary position. Like I said, variety keeps things interesting."

"Yeah, but...Jesus, ass play? _Her?_"

"Believe me, that's just the tip of the iceberg. It turns out the Dark Ages? Pretty kinky. "

"Holy shit, so you're saying that you've actually plugged her up the—"

"No!" Justin blurts out, then winces and hurriedly looks back at the stairs before he takes a breath to calm himself, and resumes. "No. I haven't availed myself of Juliet's...well, of Juliet's _anything_, really..."

"Wait, anything?" Alex says, her eyebrows raising so high on her forehead that they threaten to shoot into orbit. "But you've been dating for, like, _ever!_ She hasn't even gone down on you, yet? Given you a handjob? _Nothing?_"

"Not that it's any of your business," Justin huffs, "but..."

He trails off, and then exhales and shakes his head so slightly that anyone but her might miss the gesture entirely.

"Wow, after all this time?" Alex asks, with a genuine air of sympathy, as she leans back against the arm of the couch. "Jesus, no wonder you're beating off to porn in the middle of the night, then. I'll bet your balls haven't been this blue since that time I poured dye in the hot tub, huh?"

"Oh, ha-ha. It is to laugh," Justin sulks, turning away from her and crossing his arms over his chest as he faces the TV. "God, why I bother to tell you anything..."

"Although...waitasec..." Alex frowns down at her half-empty beer can, confused. "If Juliet's as big a freak as you say she is, then why isn't she DTF with you...?"

"Uggghh," Justin groans, hanging his head. "Good Lord, but I despise _Jersey Shore_..."

"Ho. Lee. Shit." Alex's eyes come up as a sudden realization strikes her, and she stares at him. "It isn't her that's not DTF at all, is it? It's you! _You're_ the one giving _her_ blue balls, aren't you?"

Without raising his head, Justin hunches his shoulders. "Um...metaphorically speaking...I _suppose_ you could say that's accurate, yeah."

And then he grunts as Alex snatches a throw pillow up off the couch, and whips it into the side of his head.

"Are you kidding me?" she growls at him, her voice quivering with disbelief even as she struggles to keep it down. "You're saying that your cute, freaky vampire girlfriend actually invited you, point-blank, to surf her Hershey Highway, and you _turned her down?_"

"I..._may have_...politely declined," Justin says in a tiny voice.

Alex picks up another throw pillow and hurls it at him, but this time he sees it coming and catches it before it can strike him in the face.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Alex snarls. "Do you have any idea how many guys would _kill_ for that to happen to them? I guarantee you, even Stupid Cute British Dude? The one who can't manage to say two words to me? Would sit up and _beg_ for a crack at Juliet's ass! Hell, I'm a _girl_, dammit, and even _I_ know how insane that is!"

"I know, all right? I know!" Justin snarls back, his voice going all high-pitched and breathy. "You think I don't _want_ to do it? Well OK, maybe not the bum thing specifically, that's a little too out there for me, but...y'know, 'it' in general? Of _course_ I do!"

"So? Then what's stopping you?"

Justin shoots her a look of absolute _duh_, as though she's just asked him what color the sky is. "Hello? Haven't you been listening to a word I've said? _She's two thousand years old!_"

"So...what? You're hung up on the age thing?" Alex frowns, then tilts her head to the side in sort of a half-shrug of acknowledgment. "Well, yeah, I guess that does make her kind of a cougar—OK, the cougarest cougar that ever courgared in the history of cougaring, actually, except maybe for Madonna—but seriously, she looks really, really good for her age, Justin. I don't think anyone's gonna judge..."

"What? Alex, no, you don't—" Justin broke off with an impatient snort and shook his head. "Look, how many other guys do you think she's been with in two thousand years, huh? How many _men?_ Big, masculine, _manly_ men?"

Alex blinks at this, then narrows her eyes at him. "What exactly is it they're teaching you about the Dark Ages in AP History, Justin? And how do I sign up for it?"

"Alex, two thousand years ago, a guy my age would have been a grown man, already!" Justin seethes at her, barely managing to keep his voice down. "He would have fought in battles, and lived to tell about them...looked death in the face and laughed...slaughtered countless men...bedded countless women...had _experiences_..."

"And probably died of syphilis," Alex concludes. Because, while she hasn't gotten much from the three semesters of History she's taken so far—four, if you counted the one she'd been forced to repeat in summer school—the one thing she has taken away from them is that it was chock full of syphilis. "Seriously, dude, what textbook are they teaching this course from? Does it have, like, Fabio dressed as a shirtless pirate on the cover or something? Because—"

"I'm eighteen years old, and I'm still practically a boy!" Justin cuts her off, hissing through clenched teeth. "What can I possibly do for her that all those men haven't already? I mean it, Alex. She's done things that I didn't even know there were words for. She had to draw _diagrams_ to explain them!"

"She draws dirty pictures, and yet she has issues with porn," Alex points out, rolling her eyes heavenward. "But me, _I'm_ the hypocrite, here..."

"I'm serious, Alex!" Justin says desperately. "How am I supposed to compete with all that? Especially when I haven't even—"

Justin's mouth snaps shut again suddenly, as he realizes he's gone a bridge too far. The rest of the sentence hangs in the air between them, unspoken, the sheer awkwardness of it made infinitely worse by the rhythmic grunting and moaning washing over them from the television.

"Oh," Alex says quietly, after a long and uncharacteristically thoughtful moment. "I get it. So _that's_ why you're so uptight about all this sex stuff. Because you've never...I mean, nobody's ever...?"

Justin drops his gaze away from her, glances towards the TV instead. He immediately regrets it and wrenches his eyes shut as he drops his chin to his chest.

"No," he admits, in a voice that's just a shade over a whisper. "Nobody's ever."

"Not even Miranda?" Alex asks, eyeing him suspiciously. "I mean, c'mon...I know you're all down with chivalry, and all that crap, but aren't Goth girls supposed to be really—"

"I swear to God, Alex, if you say 'DTF' to me just one more time, I am going to bed and pretending this entire conversation was a nightmare," Justin snaps. He heaves a heavy sigh and looks up at her. "Miranda was my girlfriend for all of about eight weeks when I was sixteen. Most of which, as you'll no doubt recall, I spent building up the nerve to actually _kiss_ her. What do you think happened?"

"OK, point taken," Alex shrugs in acquiescence, "but...werewolf chick? Centaur girl? Nada?"

Justin shakes his head from side to side. "And now I'm dating a girl who practically beta-tested the Kama Sutra. You see my dilemma."

Alex quickly nods. Because, even though she doesn't have the faintest idea what the hell this 'Comma Sootra' thing actually is, the gist is pretty clear.

A particularly orgasmic moan erupts from the TV, then, drawing both their attention to it. But as Justin watches the heavily-tattooed, blonde Asian girl grind furiously against her partner in unbridled (fake) ecstasy, Alex finds herself watching _him_. Because there's something about the intense look in his eyes, and the determined set of his chin, that seems awfully damn familiar...

"Oh, wow," she blurts out, as the reason why suddenly clicks home. "I get it. You're just not watching this stuff to get off. You're actually _studying_ it, aren't you?"

Even as his spine stiffens, Justin's eyes slide shiftily towards hers. "No, I'm not," he oh-so-obviously lies.

"Ohhhhhh, _Justin_...!" Alex groans into the palm of her hand as she brings it up to cover her face, her tone dripping with equal parts exasperation and affection. "Only _you_ could turn porn into homework."

"I so am not!" Justin says defensively.

"Uh, yeah. You so _are_," Alex says, her voice muffled by her palm. She furrows her eyebrows as she pinches the bridge of her nose. "You're trying to see how you measure up to other guys, the only way you can. And hopefully trying to pick up some tricks along the way, right? I'll bet you've even been taking notes, haven't you? Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong."

"I'm...you...shut up," Justin says lamely, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Alex sighs. "For the love of Christ, every time I think you can't possibly get any lamer..."

Alex slides her hand down her face until it cups her chin, and begins tapping her index finger against her bottom lip as she quietly scrutinizes him. Justin watches her uneasily out of the corner of his eye and begins to lean away from her, ever so slightly, clearly recognizing her 'formulating-an-evil-plan' expression when he sees it. Then he flinches as, nodding once to herself, Alex reaches down to snatch her beer off the table and upends it, shotgunning the remainder of its contents all in one go.

"Right, let's do this," she finally burps, tossing aside the empty can, oblivious to Justin's wince as it lands on the floor with a clatter. "First things first: take your boxers off. Let's get a good look at what it is you're working with."

"What?" Justin hisses, his voice as breathy and scandalized as she's ever heard it. The way it makes her grin only make his eyes grow even wider. "No!"

"Or don't, whatever," Alex shrugs. "Just slide it on out through your little pee-pee door if you'd rather, either way. I mean, look at that, it's practically come halfway out on its own, anyway..."

Horrified, Justin slaps his hands down onto his crotch, covering the opening in the front of his underwear, and winces a little. "Alex, what is this? I don't even—"

"Justin, relax," Alex says, patting his arm reassuringly. It actually has the opposite effect, making him flinch wildly, like an epileptic with his nipples wired up to a car battery. "You're going to help me fix my little problem, so I'm going to help you with yours. We're both just playing to our strengths, that's all."

"My 'problem' is not little, thankyouverymuch!" Justin growls at her.

"Well, that's what we need to find out, isn't it?" Alex says, with a sly smile. "C'mon, dude, it's not like I've never seen it before. We used to take baths together, remember?"

Justin gapes at her as though this is the most ridiculous thing she's ever said. Which is saying something. "Alex, I was _five_ then!"

"And it can only have gotten bigger since, right? So what have you got to lose? C'mon, stud...whip it out and impress me."

With that, Alex reaches for the elastic waistband of his shorts and hooks her thumbs into it at his hips, fully intending to yank them down herself. Justin lets out a strangled yelp and claps his hands over hers, holding them still. Alex immediately drops her eyes to the exposed opening in the front of his drawers, and cocks her head to the side for a better vantage point, forcing Justin to cross his legs one over the other, and lean away from her awkwardly.

"You're crazy!" Justin chuckles nervously, shaking his head. Then, blinking as she tries to tug again, he clears his throat and rearranges his features into a stern expression. "No."

"C'mon..."

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon...?"

"Forget it!"

"C'mon...!"

"Alex, it's not going to happen!"

"_C'monnnnnn...!_"

"No!"

"Grah!" Alex grunts in frustration, her keen negotiating skills having failed her. Whether it's due to Justin having been on the debate team since sixth grade, or a side effect of the more-than-pleasant beer buzz she's got going, she's not sure. Fortunately, she always carries an ace in her back pocket for emergencies such as these: the infamously irresistible Alex Russo Puppy Dog Look. (Patent pending.)

"Oh, no you don't," Justin says, grimacing at her as she tilts her chin down, her big brown eyes glittering at him through her eyelashes. "Not the lip. Don't you dare give me the lip. I mean it, Alex, I'm not falling for it this time."

"But I'm only trying to help you, Justin," she whines, her bottom lip protruded and quivering just slightly, in the trademark pout she perfected in the mirror when she was four. "Returning the favor for all the times you've bailed me out. Why won't you let me?"

"Because what you want me to do is—" Justin hesitates, and Alex can see the gears of his brain turning behind his eyes as he considers and rejects at least a dozen or so adjectives in the space of just a few seconds—"naughty!"

A small snort escapes her as Alex struggles to contain her laughter at this, the corners of her mouth threatening to curl upwards and ruin her pout.

"Is it really so wrong for a girl to want to lend her big brother a hand?" she asks. She slips one hand out from under his and slides it down to the bare skin of his thigh, just below the hem of his boxers. He inhales sharply in response, without taking his eyes off hers. The gears of his mind are clearly still turning behind them as he tries to work out what she's up to, but there's also a familiar softness at the edges of them, a sure sign of his wavering conviction, his crumbling resolve. He never has been able to say no to her, not when it was really important to her.

And, oddly enough, this _is_ really important to her. Though she's not entirely sure _why_, exactly, suddenly it really, really is. So, smirking inwardly, she flutters her eyelashes at him just once, and goes for the kill.

"C'mon, Justin...just one little peek? Please?"

Justin blinks in surprise, because the 'p' word isn't one that Alex breaks out very often. Confusion swirls in his expression, mixed with something else she's not sure she's ever seen before. He licks his lips hesitantly, then slowly lifts his hands away from the waistband of his shorts, lays them on the couch to quiver at his sides, and dips his chin once in the tiniest nod of assent.

Alex acknowledges this with a huge, shit-eating grin, the way she always does when she gets her way. Without another word, she gathers the sides of his boxers in her fists and gives a mighty tug, like a mortal magician performing an illusion. Presto change-o, a la peanut butter sandwiches...

And then they both gasp as Justin's erection springs to attention between them, swinging gently back and forth with each throb of his pulse, counting off the full measure of the momentous silence between them like a fleshy and particularly swollen metronome.

"Wow," Alex breathes finally, her eyes wide as they follow its movement, running up and down the tight, pulsing fullness of it.

"Really?" Justin asks, his tone guarded but hopeful. "You're...you're not just saying that?"

"Nmmmmm-mhmmmm," Alex murmurs, even as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. She stares at the length of him for another long moment, over the space of several heartbeats, before she finally blinks and looks him in the face. "I seriously can't believe you just let me do that. Man, I really _can_ talk you into anything, can't I?"

Justin's face falls, even as it flares bright enough to be visible from space. Realizing too late that he's been duped, he leans forward abruptly, hands scrambling to grab his boxers and yank them back up. But even as inebriated as she is, Alex is faster. Laughing, she yanks them right off his legs and tosses them over her shoulder, where they sail through the air to follow the TV remote over the black railing of the spiral staircase. Justin sputters in astonishment as he watches them drop out of sight, a stream of random consonants exploding from his lips, then makes as if to push himself up off the sofa and beat a hasty retreat. But again, Alex is one step ahead of him, swinging one leg over both of his and plopping herself down on his abdomen, facing away towards the TV with her back to him, making Justin groan as the wind is momentarily driven from his body. The hem of her much-too-short skirt brushes against his hard-on as it pokes up from between her legs.

"Hee! Would you look at that?" Alex giggles, grinning down at it. "Y'know, part of me has always wondered what I'd look like with a dick..."

"Alex!" Justin gasps, his voice quickly rising beyond breathily scandalized to full-blown panic. He places his hands on her hips, trying futilely to dislodge her. "Get off me! I mean it, this isn't funny!"

"Are you kidding me? It's goddamned hilarious!" Leaning forward, she gently flicks her thumb and middle finger against the head of his penis, eliciting another round of giggles as she watches it bob back and forth. "Man, it's like a really tall, really angry-looking Weeble, isn't it? Wobbles, but it won't fall down."

"Stop that!" Justin growls, indignant. "My p-p-penis is not a toy!"

"Really? Why'd I catch you p-p-playing with it, then?" Alex mocks him over her shoulder, relishing the guilty look that appears on his face. She turns back and flicks him one more time, setting him bobbing again. "I'll say this much for you, egghead: 'member how you wished you could have intimidated Dean? One look at _this_ totally would've done the trick."

Justin doesn't say anything in reply, just fumes at her silently, but the hitch in his breathing and the momentary pause in his efforts to shove her off his lap tells her what he thinks about that.

"Alright, so now you've seen it," he says, sounding just a tad less panicked (but only a tad). "Ha-ha, you got me. You win. So get up now, OK? Please? Before somebody wakes up and sees?"

But Alex ignores him, her attention drawn to the tiny white bead of pre-cum that's slowly oozing its way out of the tip of his cock, all on its own. Transfixed, she leans forward lazily as if to study it more closely, and feels a sudden swell of dangerous curiosity.

"Soooooooo, how close were you?" she asks, a mischievous edge to her tone.

"What? I don't—what are you—?"

"Don't play coy with me, egghead," she berates him over her shoulder. "C'mon, I'm not going anywhere 'til you tell me."

"I'm not playing coy, I genuinely don't understand the question!" Justin huffs. "What the hell are you talking about? How close to _what?_"

"Duh, what do you think?" Alex asks, as if this should be perfectly obvious. "To finishing, of course."

"Um, uh...I dunno..." Justin stammers, perplexed. He glances to his beer, sitting forgotten on the coffee table. "I've got maybe a third of a can left, I guess? Why, you want the rest?"

"No, you idiot, not your—!" Rolling her eyes and snorting impatiently, Alex flicks the head of his penis again, somewhat less gently this time. "_This,_ dumbass! How close was _this?_"

"Agh, knock it off!" Justin snaps, squirming exquisitely beneath her. "How would you like it if I flicked _you_ there?"

Alex twists partway round to look him in the face again, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Gah, that's not what—I didn't mean it that way!" Blushing furiously, Justin tears his eyes away from hers and resumes shoving on her hips. "Alex, please...just get off!"

Alex favors him with a languid, impish grin. "You first."

Justin blinks and frowns at her, puzzled, and opens his mouth to ask her what exactly she means by that. But then he gasps, instead, as she wraps both of her tiny hands around the length of him, and squeezes.

The shudder she feels run through his entire body sends a rush of excited pride coursing through her, almost stronger than any she's ever felt before. Only her memory of that wonderful, terrible day she won the wizard competition comes anywhere close. And even _that_ threatens to pale by comparison.

"Alex...!" Justin chokes out behind her as she begins methodically tightening and loosening her grip on him, in counterpoint to the thudding of his pulse beneath her palms. "Don't! Stop!"

"Don't stop, you say?" she tosses coyly over her shoulder. "Well gee, Justin, I was _gonna_ let you go, but since you asked so nicely..."

"No! That's not—!" He breaks off and hisses inwardly as she slowly begins to pump her hands up and down along him. "Alex, we can't...!"

"Pfft, when are you gonna learn that the quickest way to get me to do something is to tell me _not_ to?" she scoffs on the down-stroke, rubbing the index finger of her right hand against the slit of his cock, smearing the growing bead of pre-cum all over its head. "Can't is just another word for _should._"

"Nggh!" he grunts, his entire body shuddering again. And for a second, Alex feels an unexpected surge of disappointment, thinking he's about to blow his load right then and there. But no, not yet. Somehow he manages to hold on. She smiles and flushes at this, glad that she has her back to him, embarrassed by how relieved she is. Because she isn't ready for this to be over yet, not when it's just barely begun. She wants to tease him awhile first. Torture him a little. Make him beg for her to stop. Beg for her _not_ to stop. Just flat-out beg.

Huh. OK, so maybe she is a little into BDSM, after all.

Fortunately, just like he always does, Justin plays right into her hands (pun gleefully intended), pleading with her over and over again to let him go. Muttering frantically that what they're doing is bad, sick, illegal. Warning her desperately about how much trouble they'll be in if they get caught...which, Alex being Alex, only serves to egg her on even more. His hands are still tight on her hips as she strokes him, his fingertips digging into her flesh through her thin skirt and leaving marks that will be visible on her skin for days. But strangely, despite all his protests, he still hasn't resumed trying to push her away, even though he's certainly more than strong enough if he really wanted to. Heck, if anything, it's more like he's holding her _down..._

"Oh God," he moans behind her, as though his world is coming to an end, and she's the cause of it. "This is _so_ wrong..."

And suddenly, like a giant cartoon light bulb clicking on over her head, she gets it. An evil grin blossoms on her face as she leans back against him without releasing her hold on his cock, her back flat against his chest, and turns her head to whisper in his ear.

"So very, _very_ wrong," she agrees, her voice full of wonder, her breath hot against his neck. "And that's what you like about it, isn't it, egghead? No, what you _love_ about it. You _love_ how dirty it feels to have your little baby sister jack you off like this..."

_"Unh!"_ he groans in reply, so loud that Alex freezes for a split-second, listening carefully for any sudden movement upstairs. He surprises her by arching his hips beneath her, thrusting himself into her palms, whimpering slightly, wordlessly urging her to continue. She grins wickedly into the side of his neck, then slips one hand out from around him—eliciting another whimper—and rests it on his. She resumes stroking him with her right hand, even as her left gently guides his own off her hip and slips it up underneath the hem of her top, sliding it up along her quivering midriff to her chest. Justin's breath hitches in his throat as his fingertips bump one by one over the taut nub of her erect nipple, until it's burning into the palm of his hand.

"Oh Alex," he groans, his hand tightening over her breast as if by reflex. "I can't believe we're really doing this..."

Alex gasps, from shock as much as pleasure, as he suddenly pinches her nipple, tugging on it gently, rolling it between the knuckles of his thumb and forefinger. OK, so _that_ was an unexpected response...but shit, if that's all it's gonna take for him to become an active participant, here...

"I can't believe it either," she purrs, as she switches her grip on his shaft from her right fist to her left, then reaches up with her free hand to lay it over his, where his fingers are still digging into her hip. She feels more than hears his breath quicken as she once more takes his hand in hers, this time encouraging it downwards. "After all those years of boy scouts and honor roll, I never would've guessed you had it in you to be _sooooooooo bad_..."

He grunts wordlessly, squeezing her breast again as the fingertips of his other hand slide over the creamy smooth skin of her abdomen. He hesitates a moment when they reach the waist of her skirt, but Alex closes her fingers over his and flips up the hem, revealing a pair of lacy black panties. His index finger plays against the tiny red rose embroidered into the center of the waistband before she urges him to reach down further, and tugs the crotch of her panties to the side, exposing herself to him, barely half an inch above where she's stroking his desperately throbbing erection.

"Touch me, Justin," she whispers urgently, even as she returns to pumping him with both hands. "Please?"

It's all the invitation he needs. Spreading her folds with his index and ring fingers, he begins exploring her with his middle finger in earnest. Alex lets out a tiny, girlish noise as it slides down the length of her slit, then dips teasingly into her threshold before slipping its way back up to toy with her clit, slick with the wetness of her excitement.

"Oh!" she squeals, her grip tightening around him as her entire body spasms. "You lied to me. You _have_ done this before."

"Nope," he says proudly, even as his other hand tweaks her nipple again. "Just a really quick study, scout's honor. _Now_, maybe, you'll appreciate what taking careful notes can do for you."

"No shit," she grunts as his finger dips into her again, a little deeper this time. "It's about goddamned time your annoying overachievingness paid off."

"Overachievingness isn't a word, Alex," he breathes, his hips jerking upwards, matching the down-stroke of her hands on him.

"Shut up and use two fingers already, dork," she replies.

For once, he does as she tells him without argument, shifting his hand to spread her open with his thumb and baby finger as he slips his ring finger in to join the middle one already sliding in and out of her, flexing his wrist to rock the heel of his hand against her clit every time he pulls out. She lets out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a sigh as she throws her head back against his shoulder and arches her back, her hands momentarily losing their purchase on his shaft, before she drops herself back down against him and resumes stroking him with a vengeance. Out of breath, he quickens his pace to match hers, awkwardly straining his reach to drive as deep into her as he can manage. Both their eyes flutter closed as they press their foreheads together, sharing each other's breath, silent except for their frantic, ragged panting, the subtle slick sound of her pussy as it contracts around his pistoning fingers, and the television's _wakka wakka wakka_ synthesizer soundtrack urging them on.

"Oh fuck, don't stop..." she pleads softly, grinding herself against him. "I'm _sooooooo_ fucking close...don't ever stop..."

"_Unnnh...!_" he exhales then, his voice strained, "I can't...I'm gonna..._I'm gonna...!_"

And then he violently thrusts his hips upwards and cries out as he erupts, jerking and spasming mightily in her grasp as he spurts stream after hot, sticky stream all over her hands. And it's all so sudden and forceful and overwhelmingly erotic that she bursts like a thunderhead around his fingers. Arching her spine and hurling out a string of breathy curses as her orgasm takes hold, she twitches against him, liquid heat seeping out of her in waves, making his palm slick with steamy wetness.

_"Ohhhhhhh,"_ she moans, her entire body trembling around his fingers as one aftershock after another claims her. She squeezes him again, his cock already gradually softening in her hands, as he buries his face in her neck and nuzzles the pulse point just below her jaw bone. _"Ohhh, Justin..."_

"Shhhhh," he murmurs, squeezing her breast one more time before he slides his hand out from under her shirt and wraps his arm around her middle, holding her close. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly, hot against her skin. "You don't have to do that..."

Alex frowns and leans to the side to get a good look at his face, even as the way his fingers slip around inside her trigger another small, delicious aftershock. "Don't have to do what?"

He smiles at her bashfully with his grey-green eyes. "Fake it so hard. I appreciate the effort, Alex, but I'm not stupid. I know it couldn't have been _that_ good..."

"Well, that just goes to show that you don't know everything, egghead," she says, clenching herself around his fingers pointedly. "I dunno if it was beginner's luck or what, but nobody has _ever_ made me cum so hard before."

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he struggles to contain a triumphant grin, even as he eyes her suspiciously. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

"Scout's honor," she grins, nudging him gently in the ribs with her elbow, then looks down at her hands, still wrapped around him and covered in his spend. "I'd ask how it was for you, but the answer's kind of all over me, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that," he says sheepishly. "I know how gross you think it is."

Without raising her eyes, Alex shrugs one shoulder and coyly smiles at the memory of how his climax triggered her own. "Eh, maybe it's not so bad."

"There ought to be a box of tissues around here somewhere," Justin says, craning his neck from side to side as he scans the couch and coffee table. "I usually keep one nearby when I, um..."

"Never mind, I got it. " Finally releasing her hold on him, Alex sits up and turns partway round to wipe her hands off, front and back, all over his T-shirt. "There, that's better."

"Hey!" he snaps in that breathy, scandalized voice she loves. "This is a vintage commemorative 35th anniversary Captain Jim-Bob Sherwood T-Shirt!"

"Well, now it's double-commemorative," she says matter-of-factly. Satisfied that her hands are clean(ish), she braces them on the sofa to either side of her and lifts herself up off his lap, wincing a little as his fingers slip out of her. "You'll remember this always."

"Yeah, because I'd be so apt to forget, otherwise," Justin says dryly, even as he wipes his own hand off on the bottom edge of his shirt. His eyes tighten at the corners as he watches her readjust her panties, flip her skirt back down, and settle herself on the couch next to him. "Alex, I think we should probably talk about what we just—"

"Um, yeah, no," she cuts him off firmly, leaning forward and helping herself to what's left of his beer. Seeing the way his mouth presses into a thin, tight line of disapproval, she rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Look, there's nothing to talk about. You needed to do something freaky that even Juliet can't say she's done in two thousand years, and I needed to work out all my frustration over T.J. and Stupid Cute British Dude. So we used each other to get what we both wanted. Big deal. It's just a little harmless smut."

Justin stares at her for a long moment, that oddly intense solemn expression coming back into his eyes as they bore into her.

"No, it's not," he says, shaking his head sharply.

And then, moving faster than she can react for once, he leans forward and closes his hand over his. Alex's eyes go wide in surprise over the aluminum can as he pulls it away from her face, and presses his lips against hers. She nearly chokes on her last swallow of beer as he sucks gently on her bottom lip, probing it softly with the tip of his tongue. And despite everything else they've done tonight, all the lines she's willfully, gleefully dragged him across, it's _this_ that finally makes her entire body stiffen, and her brain seize so hard that she can practically hear every single synapse screeching to a halt.

And not because it's oh-so-wrong...but because it feels so ridiculously, sublimely _right_.

She's still frozen and gaping at him like a wild doe trapped in his headlights when Justin finally breaks the kiss and leans back on his haunches to grin at her fondly.

"I've always believed that there's a world of difference between having sex and making love," he says, squeezing her hand.

Alex blinks, her mouth hesitantly working open and closed a few times as she struggles to put words to what she's thinking, and fails miserably. Because, dude, there just _aren't_ any. Justin's grin only widens as he realizes that, for possibly the first time in their short lives, he's seeing her literally struck speechless, and loving that he's the cause of it. He leans forward again to peck her gently on the forehead, then hops up off the couch. The porn flick that's been playing in the background, forgotten, finally fades to black, _bow-chikka-bow-bow_ music swelling while the credits start to roll. Justin doesn't even glance at it as he pads towards the stairs in his bare feet, intent on retrieving his underwear and the lost remote from the floor of the Sub Station below.

It's just after four in the morning on a Friday night—look, we went over this already, just go with it, OK?—and though she's hardly even buzzed anymore on rum-and-cherry-coke and light beer, Alex Russo still feels oddly more intoxicated than she ever has before. Watching her brother from the couch as he strides away from her, her eyes drawn to the tight curve of his bare ass cheeks, flexing beneath the fluttering hem of his commemorative T-shirt, she reaches up to brush her fingertips against her lips. And she smiles.

—30—

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, yeah, I know...that was an _awful_ long way to go for a little mutual masturbation and a single closed-mouth kiss. It just always bothers me a little—even in my own work—how unbelievably quick Justin and Alex always seem to be to declare their undying love and jump each other's bones, especially for two kids their age. I was aiming for something a little more natural, for once. Besides, it was more about the journey than the destination, anyway. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
